You Don't Belong Here
by AllThingsInsane
Summary: Hell is where the bad guys go. Hell is Crowley's design for where the hunters go when they've been killed. Unfortunately for Bobby, he ended up in such a place when it was his time. Now, Sam has to save him from his fate. He doesn't belong there. Spoilers for "Taxi Driver."


Hell ain't what was described in the damn brochure. Hell, like I expected anything less, but Crowley grabbing me from my journey up, and dragging my ass back down, was nothing that I, as a hunter, hadn't expected. Not with the bridges I'd burned in my time killin' and shootin' those crazy sons of bitches.

Crowley had given the place a once-up, that was for sure. Instead of the usual deal of sulfur and fire, he had spruced up the place to be a series of cages designed for his detainees, and their eternal torment. Had to say, I was impressed, as I was roughly shoved into one such cage, the door locking behind me with a resounding _thud_.

It didn't take too long before the wails of human suffering reached my ears, and my stomach as it turned with revolution. People calling out to anyone that was willing to listen, to rescue them from this place.

Mostly, whatever demon Crowley employed to guard the place, stuck a stick in between the rails, like they were dogs to quiet them down. My torture didn't start until the day after I had arrived there.

"Bobby." That voice, I would know that voice anywhere. Even in my deepest of slumber, and in my case, hell. Sam, his baby voice that had grown deeper with age, now stood before me, his face melting into a heartwarming grin, until I stepped closer.

The game changed in a heartbeat, turned violent when the demonic son of bitch's eyes turned the telltale black, and he leered at me as if I belonged there, and was the puppet being controlled by his master.

After that, it went around the clock. One minute "Sam" would come, then Dean and then sometimes both at the same time. It was Crowley's sick idea of fun, but I had grown smart with my old age, and after some time, I grew to resist the sick games he played on me.

"Bobby?"

I had my back turned to the intruder, my hands touching the wall as I gritted my teeth, deciding now was the time to take action against the countless psychological attacks I had endured in my time there.

Not surprisingly, it was Sam that was standing there. Or, the demon that was wearing Sam's meat suit. The punch I threw to his face, connected instantly with his jaw. It was good to know I still knew all the tricks of the trade.

"Get the hell out of here, you black-eyed son of a bitch," I spat.

_"What?" _Sam, or the thing pretending to be Sam exclaimed. "Bobby, it's me!"

"Yeah, and I'm Elvis! Move your ass!"

"It's me!" Sam shouted. "Okay, damnit, if it's not Sam, then how do I know about you and Tori Spelling?"

Demons liked to hit below the belt, but they never usually bothered with casual chatter. They liked to torture and get on their way mostly.

"What?"

"What about your free pedicure at the Mall of America? You made Dean swear never to tell another living soul about how it changed your life."

_That backstabbing idjit_, I thought, my cheeks glowing.

But more importantly, it _was _Sam standing there before me. It was Sam that I had sucker punched, and it was Sam that was, for some reason, in this hell-hole.

"_Sam?"_

He nodded sheepishly, like he was a little boy again. I was never one for gooey hugs and kisses, but I grabbed onto that boy as hard and fast as I could, gripping him in a death hug.

"Sorry, Sam," I whispered apologetically. "But you're the two-hundredth Sam I've seen today. It's how they screw with me. Just endless Sam's and Dean's all wearing the same black eyes. Wait a minute," I said, realization finally dawning on me after a break. "Please don't tell me it's what I think it is."

"No, no, Bobby," Sam said reassuringly. "I'm good. I'm here to get you. You don't belong here, Bobby."

And at long last, I saw the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel as he reached in his pocket and withdrew a simple sword, but that weapon was all that I needed to get my head in the game.

"Let's do this."


End file.
